


Anonymous Roses

by TeamHPForever



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamHPForever/pseuds/TeamHPForever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a case of his own to solve when he receives a dozen roses anonymously and Sherlock insists that he's too busy to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anonymous Roses

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this just after Valentine's Day last year and promptly forgot about it until I found it in my stores a couple weeks ago. 
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

John’s stretched out on his dorm room bed when the knock comes on the door. His roommate, Mike, is out somewhere and he’s savoring these few moments of solitude. He expects his best friend Sherlock, seeking someone to listen while he puzzles out a problem with one of his experiments, or maybe Mary coming to give him a valentine.

Instead there’s a strange man in his mid-twenties with a dozen roses cradled in his arms.

“Delivery,” he says. He looks exhausted and overworked, which considering today is Valentine’s Day he probably is.

“There must be a mistake,” John replies. “I didn’t order any flowers.” He doesn’t have a valentine this year and he’s perfectly okay with that. He knows that Mary would be more than willing to go out with him, but he doesn’t know that he can ever see her as more than a friend.

The guy checks the clipboard in his arms and then asks, “Are you John Watson?”

“Y-yes.”

The delivery man hands him the flowers. “Courtesy of your valentine who wishes to remain anonymous.”

Before John can insist there has been a mistake, the delivery man disappears down the hall. John closes the door and sets the roses on his desk, searching through them for a note or _anything_ to tell him who sent them.

Nothing.

Has Mary sent him a valentine after all? This doesn’t really seem like her style. She’s not really the anonymous type. Mary would be much more likely to just show up at his door herself and plant a kiss on him.

Not Mary then.

John can’t think of anyone else who would want to send him flowers, not anyone that knows where he lives anyway.

He does the first thing he always does when there’s a mystery: texts Sherlock.

_Sherlock? Someone sent me a dozen roses. –JW_

The reply is almost immediate. _Clearly you have a valentine. –SH_

_I figured that one out on my own, funnily enough. They were anonymous –JW_

Nothing for five minutes. John starts to worry that maybe Sherlock’s experiments have gone horribly wrong.

_You’re not dead, are you? –JW_

_Don’t be ridiculous. –SH_

John can practically hear Sherlock’s tone dripping with sarcasm through the phone. It seems to be the only genuine emotion that Sherlock is capable of, if sarcasm can be considered an emotion.

_Can you help me figure out who sent them? –JW_

_I’m sorry, John. I’m a little busy right now. –SH_

John signs and puts his phone down. He tries to lay back down on his bed and concentrate on his homework, but it’s impossible. The roses just keep staring him in the face.

Maybe Mike sent them to him as a joke, or one of his other rugby buddies. He considers the bouquet for a moment and then shakes his head. That’s not really their style either.

John is starting to convince himself that maybe he’s wrong about roses not being Mary’s style when another knock comes to the door. This time it’s a candygram and it’s not anonymous.

It’s from Mary. Two chocolate hearts and an invitation to meet her for dinner that night. She wouldn’t take the time to send him two gifts—one anonymously and one personally—would she?

_I’ve ruled out Mary. –JW_

_Obviously. –SH_

_Are you sure you can’t help me figure this out? –JW_

Sherlock doesn’t answer.

John sits back down, breaking off bits of the chocolate hearts. Maybe it was Sarah, a girl he dated for a few months before she met Sherlock and promptly broke up with him. She’d never shown any indication of wanting to get back together but it was Valentine’s Day.

Except she already has a boyfriend. John remembers one of his rugby friends mentioning their roommate going on a few dates with her.

Not Sarah then either.

John has completely given up any hope of working on his homework for the evening when there’s a third knock on the door. He grumbles as he goes to answer it.

One rose on the doorstep, this one tied with a pink ribbon.

When John picks it up, he flashes back to just after he and Sherlock met, when one of the cheerleaders clad all in pink had been murdered. The realization hits him all at once, like a punch straight in the chest. His heart races. Oh. _Oh._

He looks up in time to see Sherlock standing there, his eyes strangely nervous. “Have you figured it out yet?”

“Yes.” John smiles as he sets the latest rose aside to reach for Sherlock and pull him into the room. “I have.”

“Took you long enough,” Sherlock says, his usually imperious voice lacking in confidence. John has seen him take on two footballers at once, confront a murderer, and inform the dean that his wife was cheating on him with his female secretary but he has never seen Sherlock look this nervous.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” John’s voice cracks and he’s not really sure what to do now. He’s never thought about Sherlock that way but now that the possibility is there, he doesn’t know how he’s never seen it.

That little skip in his heart every time he saw his best friend wasn’t the thrill of a potential new mystery to solve. It was so much deeper than that.

Sherlock shrugs, for once at a loss for words. John can’t take it anymore. He crosses the distance between them in a single stride and grabs for that ridiculous collar.

The material is rough underneath his hands and warm from Sherlock’s body heat. John hesitates, making sure that Sherlock isn’t going to run away, and then kisses him.

Sherlock responds, slow and awkward. John has never kissed another boy before, but he’s kissed plenty of girls and the concept is the same. The only difference is Sherlock’s lips feel rougher and John has to stand on his toes to reach high enough because his best friend—boyfriend?—hasn’t thought to lean over yet.

John tugs on Sherlock’s collar again and he gets the message, leaning down a bit for a better angle. What Sherlock lacks in experience, he makes up for in being an avid observer and a quick learner.

John traces Sherlock’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and then pulls away, taking in Sherlock’s red lips and bright eyes.

“I didn’t think you cared for me that way,” Sherlock whispers, insecurity written all over his face. “You never said--”

“Does this answer your question?” John kisses him again, before Sherlock can get any more words out.


End file.
